Just what you are, by far
by Tracergirl
Summary: Rarity reseves some rather...unpleasant commentary about herself. Despite having to deal with such things many other times, she writes a poem about how different she is from the pony they're trying to portrait her as. Some minutes later her memory explains to her exactly what...or in this case - who...her inspiration was. Oneshot. Ponyuri. Rarity-centric.


After some rather unpleasant commentary that Rarity had heard about herself, she decided to do something that had been in her in-mind schedual for a while. The purple maned pony entred her oh-so-humble office, picking up a hard cover book with her signature-colour-shaded-in-with magic, it visibly containing a vast amounth of paper, of which ,even if you didn't look too closely, many seemed either bit(probably because of the lack of temper control) or overused, like, again, _somepony_ was trying to fight against the noticeably-delicate-once-you-open former blocks of wood. The cover kept your mind away from that, though. It was quite creatively made. Most of the cover was coloured in the various shades of red, it becoming lighter and lighter as it came closer to the cetre. As for the pattern, well, let us just say that there are some things that writers can put into a picture, but artists can't, the sun and /maybe/ the stars, in example(except when made with some help from a dear machine or drawn in an abstract way, Vincent van Gogh's artwork being a perfect example), same goes for artists, the example being this exquisite, also pattern, because, it isn't something one could or would put into words, it's shape was too abstract...the Niagara falls are a good example too.

A tad above the centre, there was an oval, one that had the 'position' of a pony on it's back legs, instead of one who walked casually. The first 'accesories' you noticed on it were a pair of roses on the upper part, clearly a printed vector, the gradients giving it up, a-feather- pen near the flowers at the very top of the oval, its colour scheme being almost the exact same, and a plain sign, coloured in a very dark crimson, almost brown, but, to the average pony, it would be dark brown, which said 'Fine Writing' in lovely, fine-looking font, there were probably ponies who actually wrote that way...The second bunch of added in drawings which you would have noticed was the anti-cadaverous, slightly darked that the oval itself frame of the said oval, the sparkles on the top of each rose, a tiny ink bottle the same colour as the sign/title(in this case) at the bottom, and vine look-alikes that seemed to be inspired by the indescribale pattern, one of them being just bellow the feather pen, the other being just above the ink bottle. The last thing you would have noticed was a text in some other language in a very lighter version of the header's colour. All of that was in a biege/gold/brown colour, except for the things which had thier colour pointed out. There were a few other details, but we currently needn't mention them all, correct?*

The fashionista gently put the notebook on her work-table, after putting away some unused fabric in the extra wardrobe she used as a small storrage for her material, opened it, looking for a page she hadn't already used for either sketching a dress (or any kind of drawing for that matter) or writing something else, after a while finding one which survived and started writing.  
_  
I myself simply can't explain why I wanted to write this._

Yet again, a lot of tabloids and locals have started gossiping about how either I made Sweetie Belle design my dresses, I made my friends sew my creations for me, my mane is a wig or Fluttershy is my girlfriend, and I have also heard plenty of 'critising' pointed towards my ways and character by calling me 'shallow', 'arrogant', 'weak', 'cowardly', 'narcisstic' and what not, they probably think I am dirty too...just wearing enough make up and/or body paint as to hide that. But really, there is not anything new, and they will probably silence about it after some time like they always do, that is just how life works, I suppose.

But, no matter the resson, I will still write this small dedication to poetry. It HAS been in my rather inimaginitive mind lately...

* * *

That is just it,  
the knots are knit,  
I feel like I judge you in a way that I shouldn't,  
knowing your intelligence, understand it you wouldn't.

Shallow, cold-blooded and even arrogant,  
you know all of this, yet you are adamant,  
You lazy, concieted, pathetic little child,  
you can't even look at your own experiences, wild,

You almost remind me of a rare, exotic flower,  
so very proud of its attention-seeking powers.  
What a cute, adoreable and sweet thing you are,  
would I insult your intelligence if I call you smart?

You may think you're so joy-bringing and tough,  
but your actions make you look like a moth,  
thought of as a graceful thing at first sight,  
but after some studying, it doesn't seem too bright.

You colossalious coward,  
stop denying all of this and running away,  
Now, I may sound bitter or sour,  
but you're plain unbareable, dare I say.

I really wouldn't want to see you once more,  
I would break this mirror in order to do so,  
but I wouldn't want my hand to be too sore,  
and unlike you, I'd never stood so low.

* * *

You are very very different from me,  
as even you can oh-so-clearly see.

Rarity 'deactivated' her magic, letting the pen 'gently' fall on table as she sighed a deep breath out. She heard a low sound not too long after that, so she assumed that the pen had fallen on the floor. She didn't notice it as she was rereading her poem to understand what kind of impression it would make on a reader, not that she was TOO anxious about someone reading it, that is.

She used her magic once again to lift a feather pen and ink bottle as she wondered what title to give her artwork on that space she had left. She had hung around Twilight(darn, the others must REALLY not be intelligent enough for the purple unicorn to constantly want Rarity around her tail) enough to know that, if the poem isn't given a title, the first row is accepted to be its title, and she didn't want her possible readers to have to read "That is just it" and right after that read it again! That would sound and look so...just plain ridiculious!

Her sky blue irises miniaturised as a shiny lightbolt was probably hanging above her head.

She dipped the pen into the bottle and wrote _**Just what you are, by far**_. She smilled proudly as she looked at her creation once more. And after rereading it again, she finally understood exactly what she was talking about in this poem. At first, when it appeared in her mind, she thought it was about her many flaws or so, after that she thought it was probably about her criticism towards Rainbow Dash lately, now, she understood it was about how she was looking through a mirror, seeing the person who they thought she was, but I she believed, no, KNEW that wasn't her, so she critised that person, showing how different they were.

...

And then, she thought it seemed appropriate to underline the last two rows with that ink, and so she did. She put the pen back in the ink bottle as she proceeded to take the notebook in order to get a better view of her writing.

...And somewhere between looking at the title and accidentally glacing the bottom rows, her irises seemed to have started shaking.

_The six elements of harmony decided to have a sleep over the night before.  
The white unicorn had bought some tabliods and magazines for them to read. And just before she entered Twilight's bedroom, she accidentally dropped them, and just as she was about to be pick them up, she saw herself on the covers of two tabloids, one saying "Rarity: Beauty or Drama Queen?" and the other - "Does this prove that you can be anything and still be successful?". She gasped a bit, but didn't want her friends to see and/or read something so embarassing, reason as to why she quietly took them and went to the bathroom._

As she read them, she truely felt offended by all the false gossip about her, even if she knew they were probably writing all of that just for the sake of writing it.  
"Oy!" She heard that familiar cowpony accent exclaim. She turned around, and her suspicious turned out to be correct - Applejack was standing at the bathroom door, blushing a tad bit out of embarassment for walking in on Rarity**.

"Applejack, darling! What might you be doing here?" Rarity nervously asked, putting the papers away from Applejack's sight with her infamous magic.

"Jus' thought Ah could wash mah 'ooves..." she answered, rubbing the right side of her head with her hoof, do to it being a bit 'damaged' from being previously hit by the bathroom door, her right eye closed. "...it's a long walk from Sweet Apple Acres if yer gettin' here on hoof ya' know..." she finished.

"Yes, well...they seem fine to me!" Rarity answered, smiling fakely.

Applejack stopped rubbing her left side as she widened her eyes. Had the pony who constantly couldn't keep her mouth shut about how clenliness affects a mare's appearance more than anything, about how she should check her hooves for even a hint of mud more often, about how if she keeps on being like that she wouldn't ever get a stallion in her life just **told her not to wash?**

"What are you hidin'?"

It was Rarity's turn to widen her eyes."Me? Nothing! Why would I want to hide anything from a friend like you!" Just before she said 'friend' Applejack's expression turned from thoughtful to sneaky as she approached Rarity with a small smirk.

"You know…."The blonde mare started , beginning to circle around Rarity a bit, making the unicorn move as well "….I really don't like it when ponies LIE TO ME!" Just before pronouncing 'lie' she hit Rarity's horn hard enough for her magic to drop the tabloids. Applejack quickly grabbed them with her teeth, wasting no time in seeing the covers, and after that, taking a sneak peek at the article about her fashionista friend. Rarity had no objections, Applejack had already viewed the covers by the time she realised what had just happened.

"Wow….Rare…."Applejack said more quietly than usual, giving the written article a final glance, after which she looked at the purple maned pony.

"It isn't that much of a big deal." Rarity said, smiling sadly as she looked at her companion.

"…Don't let them get to you. To meh, they 're talkin' about a whole different Rarity…" Applejack started, after which she hugged Rarity lightly, making the white-coated mare laugh sadly.

"An arrogant, cold-blooded, shallow, lazy and whatnot one. That ain't you. That's another mare Ah can't recall knowing. And she is very VERY different from you. " she continued, rubbing the curly maned pony's neck a bit at the end.

Rarity laughed sadly again, only this time it was a bit more and less sad. "Applejack, I told you. I've handled things like these before. I'm not inexperienced. You needn't worry, darling."

"Ah know, Sugar. Ah just can't help but feel sympathy for you, though, nor can Ah help but argue that that by far ain't who you are, or have ever been."

"Well, I sure do feel sympathy for those rather dirty hooves of ou-"

"Oy, and it starts."

Rarity had no idea how to react, the words Applejack said kept repeating in her head.

_** An arrogant, cold-blooded, shallow, lazy and whatnot one. That ain't you. That's another mare Ah can't recall knowing. And she is very VERY different from you. **_

_** Ah can't help but argue that that by far ain't who you are **_

Those were part of the poem, not to mention, that those words could pretty much sum up the entire thing….Did Rarity create it because of how she apparently felt when the cowpony said that? As far as she knew there had to be a very deep feeling inside somepony for him/her to write an entire literature creation because of it. Did that feeling come from Applejack's words? It couldn't have been the words themselves, she didn't need them all that much, she was really used to it, heck, it would have been weird for her NOT to be used to it by now, so…..Was it the fact that they came from Applejack? If she accepted her as a friend, the feeling wouldn't have been enough to write a poem about it, or hold her interest long enough for her to finish it so quickly…..so…..did…..the unicorn…have…_**other**_ feelings directed towards Applejack?

She didn't want to know the answer to that, because she was afraid of liking it.

* * *

*** That was a bit of a troll-joke I did there, hehe.**

****It's like that because it's kinda impolite to walk in on ponies while they're in the bathroom. I didn't miss out anything sexy!**

* * *

**Welp, I remember that last time I did a fic involving AJ, I exaggurated her accent too much...hopefully this time it isn't too offensive towards country folks! Haha.**

**Anyway, in case anyone wonders, that poem I made was based on an event that happened to me:**

**I blew it a bit during class, and automatically everyone started insulting me. Then, I made the poem(that goddamn Muse is has been stalking me lately!) to show that I'm exactly the opposite of what they have or will/would say about me(I only didn't include ugly...but that would have made me sound quite shallow...Funny how a person being handsome IS in my dating-standarts, but, then again, that ain't the most important thing in me mind), or my previous...dunno, fifty-three classmates(from different grades!) have/had talked about me. But, as Rarity's thoughts suggest, at first, I thought I wrote something about the many -exaggurated in this case- flaws I saw in myself, after that, I thought it was about my vast amount of critism-more like insults, hopefully- towards, a classmate of mine that I hate, Emma, who probably hates me too because I'm pretty sure she wasn't exactly joking about the...rather sadistic things she suggested they do to me, and a lot more, haha. **

**So I suppose a small review wouldn't be too much to ask for, right...Oy, even that reflection of mine knew that was a stupid question...anyway, Buh-bye! Hope you liked it and feel free to go throughhmy other stuff-although I'd rather you not, heh-!**


End file.
